Monday, January 04, 2016

The Inward Gaze And Sriracha Breakfast

The escapades of this life are sometimes not artful. They don't illicit thought provoking reactions and art house moments of sublime contemplation. They are, sometimes, only about motion.

Moving forward.

These last 6 months have been about that for me - maybe more so than ever. Clearing out cobwebs of dissatisfaction. Simplifying. Smalling the big. Making sure that I have what I need in the blink of a mouse fart to be alright. Dwelling less on impossibility. Opening my heart to the new road.

I'm sitting in a diner near the industrial region of Carling road, taking everything in. Letting the sun from the coldest day of winter wash in on to the faded shit green-brown old world pattern carpet around me. My stomach is full of road house eggs and grease, and my soul is eager. Eager to see what's next. But also eager just to be here and smell the flowers of the moment. And my smile is creeping outward - thanks to the beauty of a bright and hilarious fellow traveler.

I think when people get unsatisfactory results in their lives, their expectations are unrealistic. They are focused on the next move. The next thing. Or they are so hung up on past pain and can't bear to imagine a reality without that horrific but familiar comfort. They are absentee landlords in the beautiful cityscape loft of existence. Being happy should never be about the arrival - it should be about the love of the journey. The road. The ride. The roll of the dice. Seeing where the day takes you. The smallest victories. The smelly air vent clanking on at my mechanics. The first blue sky in many grey winter days.

I'm at a crucial point of existence where people close to me are going through many spiritual and real dilemmas. I'm seeing decisions getting made. I'm watching roads as they are being built and foundations as they are forming.

There are zero guarantees in this life. I once heard the zany Steve-O of Jackass on a Bryan Callen podcast say that 'As humans, the only universal thing we want to do is survive - but the only guarantee we have is that we won't'. Smart words from a man who climbed over an alligator pit on a tight wire with raw chicken in his underwear.

Patti Smith fills up a wintry afternoon and reminds me of the passion that so many lose - we become drones marching on, in thoughtless trudging, towards our end.